From Here On Out
by prosemeds
Summary: Beckett doesn't know what to expect for Castle's plans in the Hamptons for their first anniversary, but she certainly doesn't expect this. Suggestive themes.


Anniversary fic thing. I SHOULD BE UPDATING I KNOW. This has been sitting with me for a little bit though, and it's been dying to get out…so. 1st wedding anniversary? kk. I am a tacky hopeless romantic, just as a warning.

* * *

Last night…wow.

Actually waking, she doesn't remember much. Except for Castle. Yeah…uh-huh. She smiles wide at the thought even before cracking her eyes fully open.

Twelve o'clock. Twelve o'clock and the taste of wine, there's some residue on the edges of her lips, she can tell. She's definitely hazy over it, but she knows she didn't drink. They'd taken many a glass before bed…well at least he was, throwing them back effortlessly really –apparently giving her her doses through his tongue – for the first night of commemorating their wedding anniversary. A year. One year of being married – one year together with Richard Castle.

Her grin won't stop growing.

Taking in the room, sight and scent remind her they aren't home. The brush of their Hamtpon's bed is lush against her, but somewhat colder now than hours earlier when her husband kept them warm, dancing together to their best number with no audience to overhear their steps…among other things.

A promise, she muses as she regains more awareness, a promise of a weekend getaway with an unforgettable celebration – whatever that means – but she sits up and immediately meets his absence, a curtain of dying curls falling to frame her cheeks. She tucks them behind her ears, rubbing down her face a bit to wipe away her sleepiness before leaving bed. Wrapping her bare body with the under blanket as she stands, the thinner golden sheet slips along her skin to form around her body, like that suitable for a goddess. Now dressed, she goes out in search for Castle, going first to check the kitchen.

Reaching halfway down the stairs, the brew of freshly ground coffee greets her nostrils, possibly bacon after, and some kind of egg to join. Expecting to see him standing there over the stove – she vaguely recalls an offer to take up breakfast since she'd tackled dinner – disappointment hits her again as she slugs through the archway.

"Castle?" she calls out to the house. She does it again, and her eyes squint, straining ears to hear any faint call of response, but the silence continues. Walking over to the island she grabs a steaming mug of coffee, ready made for her pallet, along with the rest of the food and a short note.

 _Sorry. Quick run to restock. Be back in a bit. Make me feel all kinds of guilty for making you wake up alone once I get back._

A smile disappears into a sip of her coffee, but with one look down she sets it back away for a moment, and serves herself breakfast instead. Extending her arm out for the eggs, she catches sight of her hand, an empty left hand, bearing no wedding ring. _What? I took it off?_

Hm. She must've. Ah, but she knows it's gone now, too aware. A naked hand…she needs to remedy that. So holding off on eating, she walks back upstairs, going back for the bedroom to check all the tables. Oh…No. Bathroom then? No. The study?

 _You lose your ring on your anniversary weekend? Seriously? Shit_.

There are many places left to check, but not enough memory coming back to her for help. Has she left it at home? No…she would remember taking it off. Geez did she actually lose it? No. It has to be here, here somewhere.

After ten minutes of searching, up and downstairs, she stops at the locks clicking, front door busting open and close. He's back, and she still hasn't found it, not even a clue of where it could be. So as not to draw attention to it, she scoots back towards the kitchen, and struggles as the sheet clings over corners and edges, all before plopping down on her stool to drink her coffee again…or look like it, at least.

"Good you're eating," he says, emerging with loads of groceries in each hand. Her eyes widen, a chuckle escaping on her breath as she watches him stow them away in the fridge and cabinets.

"Why does it seem like we'll be doin' a lot of that?" she says biting into some bacon. Wary about her ring, she keeps her left hand over her chest, fingers curling in over the edge of the sheet where the wrap ends. Still stuffing boxes, bags, and produce in different crevices of storage, he tosses a glance or two over his shoulder as he replies.

"In good time, just let this weekend unfold before you like the magical gift it's about to be."

"Was uh…that not my gift last night?" she teases, eyes running up and down his back exterior, admiring how he looks in those jeans. Wonderful assets.

"Tip, tip of the berg baby," he reassures. "Though I must admit, I could very easily count that as your gift. You were–" he pauses, at a loss for the word. "Is pleased really the right choice?" he doubts, turning his head.

"Mmm, that's probably an understatement don't ya think," she says, her bottom lip tugged under her bite. He grins as she grabs her coffee again, but as he turns away he returns to scan her up and down once he realizes what she's…wearing.

"You haven't dressed."

"Oh what, this doesn't count?" she says pulling the mug away.

"Are you kidding? If I could have you wear that to the precinct I would. Not the best crime catcher clothes though, I must admit."

"I don't know, just figured what's the point you know, honestly? It's just us. Seemed like the smart thing to do last time we came up." Her smirk tells more of the story than her words can as she picks off the scrambled egg to drop it in her mouth.

Sharing her thought, vividly, he straightens his lips before responding. "Because we weren't going anywhere last time," he says while returning to the shelves. Stashing away the last bit of food supply he whips back around, resting his hands atop the island to support him up. "We will actually leave this house today."

"Yeah?" she says, brows raising.

"Couple places I've slotted for us to visit…but…" He walks around, slipping behind to perch his fingers over her shoulders. Catching the glint of his ring, she shelters her naked finger between her legs as he draws nearer, his warmth returning to her body once more. "I don't mind dressing down before we leave."

Before she agrees, he presses his face into her neck, causing her head to tip at the spill of his breath down her back. Tactile memory returns with every run of his lips, every glide of his fingers, the power of the night still fresh and still resonating under the surface. It haunts her in the best meaning of the word, the rush filling up her blood as she anticipates what comes next.

After fifteen gorgeously agonizing minutes on the floor with her husband between her legs, she does.

Oh _yes_ , she most certainly does.

"Looks like I didn't need to undress after all," he finishes kissing her head.

–

"Where we off to?" she presses. Impatient, she sits far too impatient, but out of pure joy on the premise of them spending a day alone together – no murders, no interruptions, just them off to seize some new adventure he has planned out. Of course she's anxious, but the good kind, best kind. Coupled with hope too – she hopes that the day's events will keep her preoccupied, and him invested enough to not notice the absent ring.

He replies to her nudge of insistence with just a smirk, looking her way to check for cars just before they pull out the driveway. "You really just can't tell me?"

"I so can, but I so don't want to. It ruins the effect even if I just hint it," he says. "I know you. Don't worry, we won't take long to get from place to place, so you won't be tortured too much."

Pursing her lips, she pulls her legs up onto the seat to leave behind her sandals. An arm extended over his shoulder, her fingertips lightly massage the base of his neck, helpful and seductive. "If this is where–"

"It's not," he dismisses. Fully turning her head, he meets her gaze with expectant blues. She doesn't retort, just arching a brow to make her point. "Eight years," he stresses. "You should be _offended_ if I don't know what you're gonna say. Now open the glove compartment and put on the blindfold."

A sputter and scoff, her jaw slackens as she stares him down again. "What?"

"Oh, you didn't know I was gonna say that? Wow, okay honey, you have some catching up to do then. But seriously, on with the blindfold though, you need it."

"I _need_ it?"

"Well…if you want the full effect of these surprises, _then yes_ ," he baits with a hiss.

Hesitant at first, she eventually obeys and empties out a sigh, lamely reaching for the compartment, dropping the hatch without care to grab the black bandana folded inside it. Tying it around, she secures it with a second knot, smoothing it out over her eyes to block out the light.

"Castle if I fall wearing this damn thing–"

"You won't," he says. "I won't let that happen."

"Oh, really? Okay, what stopped you last time we tried doin' this," she poses, cocking the brow he doesn't have to see to know it's there. Taking in a breath, it fills the silence he can't replace just yet.

"I won't let it happen a second time then," he mumbles. She giggles a bit before going mute, leaving some residue of it in the smile she wears all throughout the ride.

After a few minutes of driving, the car eventually slows, stopping before making a turn. They've arrived, and the nerves in her chest start to bounce, eager to see the first stop on this mini trip. Castle instructs her to wait for him, leaving the car first to come for her side, opening the door to lead the way in.

Holding her arms, they inch gradually towards the building. The scuff of their feet fills the time, almost rhythmic against the dirt before they can reach the handle. Entering, a bell chimes for them until the door closes again, and the distinct creak of the wooden floor informs her that this place isn't new, but certainly somewhere they haven't been. There's a particular aroma to the room, something familiar she's not sure she can name or place without the aid of sight. Before she can say anything, he raises the bandana above her eyes, revealing the shop before them.

For a moment, she swears she's forgotten how to breathe.

Every wall surrounding them is hidden by guitars – vintage, acoustic and electric – thousands and thousands of dollars worth, just hanging, mounted there.

"Ca-Castle this–"

"–is the best place ever, yeah I know."

He watches her with the widest grin as she steps forward, looking back and forth between him and the pieces. She's stunned enough that her legs buckle moving toward them, a reverent _wow_ plastered on her face and over her mouth. She takes her time assessing each section, tempted to touch, but she holds back, taking in the beauty of each one she eyes – which is every single one. "How did you–?"

"Meet the owner," he gestures first to the man standing behind the counter who's been watching in wait. "Gavin, this is my wife, Kate. Kate, Gavin Duvall. Longtime buddy."

She walks back toward them with an extended hand, the amazement spreading her face into a beaming glee, inhibiting the words to properly come out. "Mr. Duvall this is an outstanding – it's really beautiful – everything you have here." He nods with a thank you in clear understanding before she returns to Castle. "You never told me about this place," she says with some taste of surprise.

"Wanted to save it for the right occasion," he replies. "Go ahead."

"…What?"

"Play, go-go," he says with a permissive wave. A young Beckett emerges in those burned greens, bugging out like she's won a trip to Disneyland.

She's terribly careful lifting each guitar off its wall, and even more so when she starts to strum away her favorite songs. Her lids shut to hear the notes, to focus on the chords bubbling in that part of her brain. Leaning up against the counter, he stands by showered in heavy warmth, thriving off the expression he sees on his wife's face as she fills the shop with the music, her heart's music.

It's familiar, gentle to his ears as he falls back into those nights he'd come home to her serenading the loft, serenading him. He even utters some of her own lyrics when she strums out original pieces. He catches her troubles a bit to find her fingering at first, but every new effort on each guitar hones the movements for her, and it all comes back in waves of sound.

He loses track of time lost in her song, in her voice, and by the minute she wears out her fingers they've stayed for over an hour. Mounting the last guitar with a sweet exhaustion, she strides back to him, biting her tongue with such excitement, still reeling over the experience.

"Did you not find something you like?" She's startled again, a jump from her chest to her head that's half a head shake.

"We're actually gonna buy one?" His lips part and spread at her shock, just waiting intently on her next response. "Babe, we can't–I couldn't these are too–" she stutters. Her words don't finish the thought, but he understands. The indecision in her eyes resembles guilt…she couldn't ask him to.

"I want to," he answers. "I want to, because I think your creative you needs some attention…as much as I love logical, analytic you."

She can't stop grinning, and it's stupid, goofy. Her cheeks start to get sore, but she can't stop it. How can he still do this to her heart all these years later?

"I'm not sure I could choose, I mean," she cuts off, absolutely winded. Scoping out the room again, she's too distracted to notice Gavin pulling up a hard case, laying it on the counter to prop it open. Castle clears his throat, face inviting when she wheels around to see him gesturing down.

Her steps drag, cautious as she approaches, but this time she indefinitely loses it – hands swift to muffle her squeal, she goes to pick up the neck of the guitar.

It's the first time she ever sees it, but her mother's words resonate with her as she examines it, matching the description to a T. It's a vintage Gibson she's holding, hollow body, like a baby in her hands. One strum washes her with chills, and she's in love.

"Did your mom do it justice, or are you pleasantly surprised?" he asks as she holds it to her stomach.

"She…she hit it home. Impeccable, impeccable taste," she says skating her fingers across the body and strings. "I should've listened to what she wanted. They didn't have it at the time though–"

"Right," he agrees, remembering the story too. "But now they do, and I still like the other one," he says grabbing for the case, standing it up beside him, opening it with invitation. "But if you want this one…" He trails off, and sees her head lift in such a mix of emotions, he can't discern whether she's happy or horrified.

"Castle no this is too much, and I don't even need it–"

"Do you want it?" he presses. Her meek smile splits into a tiny laugh, which tells him everything he needs to know. So he takes it from her, setting it down in the case before zipping it up to leave. Nodding off to Gavin, his open hand reaches for hers, locking together as they start to step out, but she pulls on him with stern eyes. "Okay can we just have a competition on who knows the other better, because clearly I'm winning right now – I took care of it, I AM NO THIEF KATHERINE BECKETT," he proclaims.

Still doubtful, her eyes flicker toward Gavin who waves goodbye to her. She snorts at Castle when she sees his wide look of _see, I told you_ , her head shaking before she pushes his back to go through the door, out into the beams of the sunlight now angling well from west.

"You wanna try it out?" he asks as they load it into the car. Her lips scrunch, mocking uncertainty she clearly doesn't have. She's totally enjoying this.

"I'm guessing there's a next place for me to do just that?"

"Look who's catching up to me," he teases. Rolling her eyes they get in, but he slips the blindfold over her again when he sees it. "Now if you can guess where it is, then we'll be even."

–

That's the ocean. She's sure. The distinct scent pulls into the car once they've reached the next destination, and she knows she can't be mistaken. Yet she waits, she waits for him to reveal because she enjoys the thrill he's getting from this too. A part of her wants to give him his gift already, but she'll wait. She'll let him have his time first before she tells him.

Another stop, and the car parks. She goes ahead and exits the car, and waits for his instruction to move. After grabbing the guitar, he supports her back as they proceed. There's a dock, wooden planks sounding underfoot, and excitement fills her again. She knows better this time around, because he'd talked about 'getting one soon' months before. Only it was a passing remark then, and she never took it seriously.

But when he lifts the fold, she knows he actually did.

A boat. She regains her sight overlooking a sailboat that welcomes them with a long stretch from bow to stern. Linked hand and hand they get on, and he leads, touring through before they leave the marina.

"Since when do you sail?" she asks, already skeptical.

"I learned it for a book," he says shrugging. The words are firm, but he doesn't meet her gaze. She knows the lie. She knows it's a good one too. She'd mentioned sailing so long ago even before they started dating, but it moves her heart immensely now that he not only remembers the sentiment, but took action to pursue it. All the way. For her.

He takes them out from the marina, but anchors the boat only a couple miles from it. In a standstill he instead brings her their favorite wine, and a basket of sweets to snack on as a precursor to the dinner later. She overloads more on the sweets, however, careful as she sees his suspicion pique. Luckily, he doesn't offer a word on it.

It's simple, and it's easy like this together as they relax to the hums of the radio on his phone, but right then and there somehow it's everything she's wanted. Him too. The moment sings poetry to them both: the kiss of the sunshine, the ripples and slaps of the waves, the light breeze hugging their skin…it's all too beautiful in this pause.

They're both at peace for sometime, but when "Uptown Funk" sounds, Castle just falls short of spazzing out as he jumps to his feet to start dancing.

Beckett blasts it for him as she rolls in her lips, holding back laughter even for a little while as she watches her husband act out. It's hard not to laugh, but she does try, fingertips pressed to her lips that widen beneath them. She doesn't burst until he starts singing, marching all around to the beat he hears.

She's red with laughter as he steps all around, sliding and gliding in perfect knowledge of the lyrics, not even missing a word. When he "calls the po-lice," his finger points and beckons her, his face serious even as he continues on with the lyric. Unable to resist it, she stands up slow and edges toward him with the same rhythm but a sexier twist in her moves, both of them bouncing around and belting out the words in sync.

Hand in hand they move, swaying and swinging to the tune, but in a slight – or rather major – misstep along the side, he goes overboard flat into the water. The splash is what grabs her attention, but panic blows over when she immediately sees him resurface, laughter starting to build as he goes for the ladder.

"I think you funk'd a little too much babe," she says when he climbs back on. Furrowed brows appear as he tousles his hair, shaking off the cold as much as he can.

"Okay, like you weren't into it too," he defends quick, a shiver underlining his breath. Starting to unbutton his shirt she holds a straight face, or the best she can fashion together with her might looking at him, lips fighting not to break character.

"I'm not the one who fell off because of it," she taunts. Ooh. Is that a dare? He'll take it anyway.

Seizing her by the back and legs, he slings her over his shoulders to descend the ladder before completely immersing into the water in one jump down. She shrieks his name just before breaking the surface, but reemerging she surges toward him with a pound on his chest, a choke on his chuckle shooting out on impact. Still laughing, he climbs up the ladder, but she follows him just as swiftly, determined for some kind of payback. When they both land on deck, she tears off her chilling clothes before charging toward him, knocking him down towards the cabin.

She's glaring with a scrunched grin as she jumps on him, arms slung around his neck and legs around his waist. The cold hardened over them begins to melt at the meet of skin to skin, friction aiding to defrost them. Falling backwards onto the twin bed there's barely any room, but it keeps them closer in this way that's perfect for their comfort.

In their giggles, and groans, and moans, they cut with each other's names and I love you's. Out here, they're even more open to sing for each other like no one else can hear them, binding together, together to make one. Complete. Fixed into one.

No one can deny they belong like this forever from here.

An hour or more later, wrapped up, tangled in each other, they lie still barely awake. Light conversation bounces between them only for a lack of energy, but after some recovery she props herself up on his chest, longing to look into that gorgeous blue she loves.

"How did we get here," she muses, a mild hoarseness to her voice tagging on. He bends his head slightly to look at her, anticipating more to follow, but nothing comes. He's not sure how to interpret this yet, or where the line will lead, so he starts off broadly.

"What, this moment? This point in our lives?"

"I don't know…I just." He pulls his head up to see her better, to assess the thought forming, the expression of curiosity sculpting her face. "It's…It's our one year, and it just makes me wonder how we managed to get here, to be married, you know?"

He realizes it's running more serious, so he waits for more information before responding. "To be able to do all this it's…I just look back sometimes and I see everything. I see it all, and I have to wonder if we did any of it differently – would we still end up here? Like this?"

He absorbs it, knowing exactly what she's getting at, but the answers don't come right away. He lets the words guide him, slow in offering up a satisfactory response. "We might be different. I think some changes here and there would result from whatever decisions or choices we'd alter, but…fundamentally we'd be the same. We'd still be married…if not in this moment, somewhere along the line."

"What makes you so sure?"

His grin is small as he combs his fingers into her hair, looking all around her face with thinned eyes silently adoring her as he stirs up words again. "All my decisions…they'd lead straight to you. They'd gravitate towards you. I'm not sure if by conscious choice, but because I love you, they all would pave my way."

"You think so huh?" She sounds convinced, but it's some kind of worry weighing her down.

"I do. I found love in you, with you, Kate. Maybe not for the first time, but for the last. I never imagined I'd find it like this. Not in this way, or not in this capacity. It's never been this…rooted for me. I've never been so compelled to return to a person over and over, even when we were just partners." He takes a breath, waiting for more words he knows he needs to say. "We stumbled…a lot…to get here, but I think every wrong just narrowed down where there was left to go, and it's led us here. So we can be like this."

She returns his look, tracing her thumb along his jaw as she gathers her words. "You know what…" she says inching up closer to him. "I think you're absolutely right."

"Now how do you know?" he asks, echoing her.

"You're right, we did stumble a good amount. We compensated though. You, you were stubborn with me. You…didn't give up. I gave you plenty of opportunity to, every reason to, but you didn't."

"Except for the lying thing," he admits, uneasy as it rolls off his tongue. To his surprise, she still smiles at the thought.

"No-no. Then…then it was my turn, my part to play. My job. I had a habit of…showing up. It was my turn to do that. I'm still grateful I did. Its funny how almost dying has a tendency to motivate us to do something for the other."

His face softens at her thinking, and he pulls her in for a kiss, a full, weighted kiss, before she nestles under his chin, cuddled up even closer. "Thanks for always showing up," he says before pressing his face into her head.

"Thanks for not giving up on me."

–

At the start of sunset, hunger settles in, and both agree to return back to the house for the huge dinner he's promised. On the route back, he encourages her once again to blind her eyes, but this time she does so without so much as two words. She doesn't know what to expect this time, but given the day's events, she knows she can trust it to be damn good. She feels spoiled thinking on it, almost guilty that her gift may not live up to all he's done today…and to top it off –

her ring is still gone.

They pull in as the sun continues its descent, and it rings back to one year ago exactly, that moment they secured each other's love forever. She lingers on the idea with such delight, it nearly blows up her chest with how much she feels. She's been smiling the whole day and now, now is no reason to stop as they park in the driveway.

Stepping out of the car, he guides her again, moving towards the front door, slower now as the darkness hinders his sight too."Be careful," he says, easing her slowly into the house to avoid misstep. They go straight up and up the stairs before anywhere else, turning for a room she hasn't been in for over a year.

Keeping her blindfold on he starts to undress her, but she halts him, holding his hand to her stomach. "What are ya doin' babe, can we at least eat dinner first?" she asks through a snicker.

"I'm not stripping you down," he dismisses. "Although, we can do that later. No, I'm just doing a quick wardrobe change."

"Into _what_?"

"Well just _wait a minute_ and then you'll find out. That's been the patten of the whole day, just do it one more time," he enthuses.

Unzipping something he bends down, then carries each leg to step in to the hole, a circle of fabric hanging around her ankles. Pulling it up, it hugs her body in all the right places, taking the whole form of her he adores so much. Zipping it up, she folds down the sides, noting the smoothness. Geez, a satin dress maybe?

"Wait here, I'm gonna change too."

"What is all this changing for _dinner_ – your wife is hungry, Richard Castle."

"Two minutes tops," he says dodging out into the hall. The patter of his feet beating against the floor pulls a wide smile out of her, and she touches her fingers to her lips to hold it, but oh, the ring. Temptation hits. She needs to peek. She needs to find her ring.

Lifting the cloth off one eye, she mulls over how long it'll take him to change. Can she dart out quick to check? When she turns towards the door, the full body mirror reveals her dress. It's an off white, glossy and cut off the shoulder. It almost looks like it could be –

A wedding dress?

She's unknowingly gawking at herself for those two minutes, and when he returns, his hands shoot forward in disbelief. "I said two minutes –"

He cuts off, but she's no longer listening. His gesturing fingers, his left hand, it bears no ring anymore too.

"Where's your ring? Our rings?"

He grins a knowing look, reaching for her with an open palm. Obviously confused, she takes it anyway, and he slides the bandana down quick, then rustles her hair out as she dons her wavy beach style.

Down the steps they go, and she's sufficiently confused by this point, but she follows along inside the embrace of her husband as he guides them towards the back doors, out onto the back steps. His hands go to finally untie the bandana, but a familiar voice takes on the air while he does, filling the expanse of the whole yard.

It's…Espo?

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my sincerest pleasure to introduce to you, finally and formally, Mr. and Mrs. Richard Castle!"

No. It couldn't be.

Except when she sees it all, she knows that it is.

A stage centers everything, white Christmas lights stuffed in mason jars lined up in rows over the entire area of the yard. She sees Espo and Ryan standing in their tuxedos clapping away with their mics on stage, then lowers to look past the glow of the lights, finding an array of round white tables that occupy the rest of the space, squaring in arrangement to make room for the makeshift dance floor aligned with the stage. A band is waiting for their cue, while waiters and waitresses of some catering crew stand between tables, clapping along with everyone else. She sees family, friends, all their loved ones gathered to celebrate in the reception they never had.

If she's crying, she doesn't even care.

Castle returns to her side to lace their hands together, to walk through the crowd all the way for the stage. He gets up before her, going for the mic to address everyone.

"Thank you, thank you all for coming out _again_ , and I promise this is the last time because…I can't afford to do another." She flicks her tears away while stepping up, joining him, laughing along with the others as he continues on. "So since it's been a year, and none of you actually got to attend the wedding – my apologies by the way –"

"Mm-hm," Espo hums loudly into his mic. After a quick stare down that elicits large laughs from the crowd, he snatches the mic to hand to Beckett.

"We will reenact our vows to start off the festivities tonight," he finishes looking at her. A smile. The biggest smile from both, unwavering still, through the entire day up to now.

Ryan steps up between them as the pseudo minister, and gestures to them both to start their vows. She swallows hard, the lump tightening in her throat as she musters up the strength to start. "The moment that I met you…my life became extraordinary. You taught me to be my _best_ self…to look forward to tomorrow's adventures. Just like today." She's stifling her tears now, half reflecting on the past year they've spent…how true every word still is. He sees the emotion spilling out of her, swallowing to ease his lump too.  
"And when I was vulnerable, you, you were strong. I _love_ you, Richard Castle. And I want to…continue, to live my life in the warmth of your smile…the strength of your embrace. I promise you, I will love you. I will be your friend. And your partner in crime and in life. Always."

There's more she wants to say, and they both know it, but they silently agree to save it for each other's hearts to hear later.

"The moment we met…my life became extraordinary. You taught me more about my life than I knew there was to learn. Every day you still do. You are the joy, the unending joy in my heart. You're the last person I want to see every night before I close my eyes…and a year later, you still are." He's reflecting too. With every obstacle they've overcome in this last year, his gratitude overwhelms him, thankful to still have her here, to still have this life with her. The notion shakes away the steadiness of his voice.  
"I _love_ you, Katherine Beckett. And the mystery of you is the one I want to continue spending the rest of my life exploring. I promise to love you, to be your friend and your partner in crime and life, 'til death do us part and for the time of our lives."

Once Ryan finishes it off, neither hesitate to pull the other in, linked in the kiss that sends everyone on their feet.

And not a soul is left dry.

–

Speeches. Dancing. Eating. Cake. It's everything it should've been, everything they wanted, and they both carry the same thought with their passing glances throughout the night –  
Why didn't they do it sooner?

The evening wears them down in the best of ways, enduring all of it, officially celebrating their union with everyone that matters to them. Even when separated, they find each other across the way, exchanging loaded looks, but the good kind. The best kind.

Champagne gradually gets the better of more than half the guests by the start of the second hour, and real entertainment starts when they overtake the dance floor. Instead of joining the riot, Castle takes her aside, upstairs and out the window onto the roof between both sections of the house, to dance alone with voices only they can hear.

"You've outdone yourself," she says with a sigh of amazement. "How will you go on from here?"

"It's the writer in me. I guarantee I'll think of something."

Adjusting her hands on his shoulders, she recalls the ring again, and she stops them both completely to figure out what he's done.

"Rings?" she asks showing her empty finger, tone accusing what her word doesn't. Leading her to the railing, he pulls out their bands, but it's the objects that follow after that surprise her more.

He holds up her father's watch before taking her wrist and securing it on. He speaks slow in answer to her bemused look. "This, this is for the life you saved." He grabs the chain next, and seeing the ring dangle, she aches in longing for her mother to be here, with her, with them. Yet she does feel her once he drapes the chain over her head and around her neck, fixing her mother's ring as he continues. "This is for the life you _brought justice to_." Not lost…he's intentional in not saying lost. She's dabbing her eyes as he picks up their rings, handing her his and holding onto hers. She slides his on, and then he follows, completing the triad. "This is for the life, a life as one, from here on out."

"Forever from here," she adds, pulling him into an embrace. She lets the tears fall onto his shoulders, arms slung around his neck so tight. "Thank you, Castle. Thank you for bringing her with us."

"She's always with us. Always. She will be even more so soon."

"Why is that," she says pulling back to look at him.

"Because you'll be the amazing mother she was," he says so casually. It registers faster than it should, her cheeks warming as she's stunned again, eyes widened at him. "Wine?" he asks, mimicking her tone before.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"It didn't seem fitting until now."

She pouts a little, running her fingers through his hair as she finds the words. "I know it kinda pales placed next to all this–"

"No, _don't_ ," he says securing her waist. She holds the sides of his neck for support as he lifts her up, eyeing her with attention he's determined not to let go of. "I'm a father again, a father for the child of the woman I love. I'm sharing another life with you. No one, no one could ever give me a greater gift than that."

One anniversary down.

She can't wait for forever from here.

"Happy anniversary," her lips trace over his.

"Happy anniversary, Mrs. Castle."


End file.
